“Nah,” she’d scoffed, waving away a scraped
knee. “This? It’s nothing.” Then, a moment
later, she’d changed her tune, pouting, holding
out her hand. “Wait, no. I do feel pain. When
it’s you, I feel pain. Come on, John, kiss it
better.”
Now, as the flames consumed her, I imagined
her crying out in pain. I broke down, sobbing,
<
11:09
47
lunging forward. “Sarah!” I screamed. Someone grabbed me, held me back. I fell to my knees,
pounding my fists on the ground. I must have
hurt her so badly, I thought. This was God’s
punishment.
- 14.
They brought her back to me in a small box.
They buried her at the National Cemetery. A
light rain fell as they lowered her into the
ground, surrounded by white lilies.
After everyone left, I had my assistant bring me
a bouquet of red roses. I sat in the rain,
clutching the flowers, unable to let go.
All those years, all those six years of marriage, I never truly appreciated her. But now, now that she was silent, now that her laughter was gone, now that she’d vanished from my life forever… the pain was unbearable.
She was so full of life. I always thought she was invincible. There was nothing she couldn’t
handle, no problem she couldn’t solve. I never imagined she could be… gone.
You take people for granted, I realized. You get
annoyed by them, you look down on them.
Then, one day, they’re gone, and you’re left
with this gaping hole in your chest. Especially if
you never truly treated them right.
I’d never bought her flowers. Not once. And she
never complained. She said she didn’t like them
anyway, too much fuss. Growing old together
was the real romance, she’d said.
But I… I thought she was too tough for
romance. Romance was for delicate, fragile
women. What did Sarah need with romance?
I was so wrong. Of course, she needed
romance. She just wasn’t getting it from me, so
she pretended she didn’t care. If she were truly
that tough, that indifferent, would she have
clung to me so desperately, loved me so
fiercely? Beneath that tough exterior, she was all heart. But because of how she grew up, because of who she was, she never showed it. The rain soaked the roses, the sky grew dark. My assistant returned. “Mr. Miller,” she said gently, “it’s getting late. Let’s go.”
I stood up, placing the roses on her grave.
<
- 15.
I worked myself to exhaustion. After a week, I
collapsed in my office with a high fever. I woke
up to find Chloe sitting on the couch in my
private lounge. I rubbed my aching head, feeling
a deep, hollow emptiness inside.
Chloe, her pregnant belly prominent, smiled at
- me. “You’re awake.”
I pushed myself up, my body heavy. “What are
you doing here?”
“I’ve been calling you all week. You wouldn’t
answer. I was worried, so I came to check on
you.”
I looked at her, at the careful, almost timid way
she held herself. It made my head pound
harder. I pressed the intercom. “Why is she in
here?” I demanded of my assistant. “I told you,
no one is allowed in my private lounge.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” she stammered. “Ms.
Carter was waiting outside your office. I
stepped away for a moment, and she… she let
herself in.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Just… go.”
47
<
11:09
I turned back to Chloe. She nervously pleated her skirt. Before, her anxious demeanor would have evoked sympathy. Now, it just irritated me. “Chloe,” I said, “do you even know? Sarah… Sarah’s dead. She’s buried in the ground.”
“I’m sorry, John,” she whispered, “but it’s not my fault. You can’t blame me for that.” “No, I can’t blame you for her death. But perhaps you can explain this.” I pulled out my phone, played a video. It was a recording of a
conversation between Chloe and her husband.
“Chloe, please don’t divorce me,” the man
pleaded. “I can’t lose you.”
“I know you’re not rich like John,” Chloe’s
voice was sharp, “but I’ll work hard. We’ll be
okay.”
The man in the video knelt on the floor, begging her to stay. “Do you really have to do this? Gamble everything? Take our child and gamble everything? Do you really think John will take
you? I don’t believe he’ll raise another man’s child.”
“Stay out of it,” Chloe snapped. “Who I’m with
<
11:09
46
is none of your business. And as for the baby, you can have him. You and your family can raise him. I’m being more than generous.” The man’s voice was bitter. “Generous? If it weren’t for your… condition, if you could have gotten rid of him, you would have. You’re giving him to us so he doesn’t get in the way of your
new life.”
I stopped the recording. “Chloe,” I said quietly, “remember what you told me? You said your husband abused you, that you were terrified to go home. You begged me for help, for a place
to stay.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead. “Why is what I’m seeing so different from what you told me? You were right about one thing, though. Your husband isn’t rich. But even when you were emasculating him, he didn’t raise his voice. He just wanted you to stay.”
“John,” Chloe whispered, reaching for my hand, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied about the
abuse. But I do love you. I want to be with you.”
“Love me?” I asked, my voice hollow. “Or love
<
my money?”
“John, please…”
“Leave, Chloe. I don’t want to see you again. You have three days to move out of the house.”
“But the baby’s almost due! You can’t do this
to me! You said my health was important, that
all that mattered was bringing the baby into the
world safely, that you’d provide for him.”
“That was based on the premise that you were
telling the truth. That you had an abusive
husband, that you had nowhere to go, that this
child’s father didn’t want him. Tell me, Chloe,
which of those statements is true? Now, please
leave.”
She started to protest, but I called my assistant
back in. “Ms. Carter,” I said, “please escort Ms.
Carter out.
After she left, I sank back onto the couch,
utterly drained. Ever since Sarah’s death, I’d
woken up every morning with this gaping hole
in my chest. Sometimes, I’d pinch myself,
hoping I was dreaming, that Sarah was still
alive. But she wasn’t.
<
alive. But she wasn’t.
- 16.
Everyone assumed the baby was mine. It
wasn’t. I never bothered to correct them. Sarah
probably thought I’d been sleeping with other women during those late nights away from
home. I hadn’t. I never cheated on her. Infidelity disgusted me.
I wouldn’t be with Chloe, not now, not ever. I’d
only felt sorry for her. She’d called me, crying, saying her neighbors were harassing her, knocking on her door at all hours. She was scared. So, I’d given her the key to one of my vacant properties, a place to stay while she was pregnant. It only fueled the rumors, but I didn’t care. I had nothing to explain. I had wanted a divorce. If this lie helped achieve that, then so be it.
I’d gotten what I wanted. We were divorced. But my life… my life was over.
